


Look At Me

by orphan_account



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2012)
Genre: Dubious Consent, Exhibitionism, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, fantasies, tcest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-13
Updated: 2016-07-13
Packaged: 2018-07-23 20:39:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7479162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mikey fantasizes about being the center of attention.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Look At Me

_Look at me!_

He wants to shout it until it rings in the lair, in his brother's minds, in the city streets, in the freakin' stratosphere. _Look at me,_ as if his existence is only valid when the show is on, all eyes are tuned into him. It was terrible when he was younger and they were cloistered, separated from the world.

Mikey has, since then, matured enough that it's not _me, me, me_ every second of every hour of every day, but there will always be a little brat inside of him, begging for attention at any cost. It will always be better for Raph to yell and swing at him than to be ignored. Donnie's raised voice, his flipped bandana tails, will always be preferable to his quiet focus being stuck somewhere else. And Leo? Well -- Mikey would even take an extra hour (no, two! no, _ten!_ ) of training if it meant that Leo's attention bored into him all the while. 

Mostly, it's innocent. And sometimes, in the weird warming-hour of the late morning that counts as Michelangelo's night, it's not. 

Picture this:

Mikey's been tied up -- with his own kusarigama, even, oh, the embarrassment! -- and left in an awkward half-reclined position on the couch. Donnie's placed a vibrator right at the sensitive pucker of his cloaca, turned it on, and walked away. Mikey is so, so hard, whimpering, his cock is leaking, and Raph is half-watching TV, half-watching Mikey, touching himself in a slow, casual way which means he's not going to make the first move. Leo steps in from the kitchen, and blinks, and stops, and then smiles and sits, to wait. Donnie is still gone. Mikey is thrusting his hips up, bucking, practically falling off the couch because it's messing with his balance. Mikey starts to beg Leo and Raph for help. But no -- they know the rules, and Donnie is still gone, and then April and Casey walk in, and they gasp, and cover their mouths or eyes or both, but neither can resist lingering, and watching, until Mikey's cock is dripping with come, until Donnie steps back in, and says some lame line about _and here I thought three was a crowd,_ and no one can believe how pretty Mikey looks flushed, how huge and fat his cock is, how good he looks with his legs hooked over Donnie's shoulder, as he's being undone.

(Picture Mikey on his bed, face crushed into his pillow, his hips lifted just enough that he can work his cock with quick, shallow twists of his hands. Picture his toes curling as his pleasure unfurls.)

Or, no! No! Mikey has been captured by Rahzar, and instead of taking him to the Shredder, like he should, he ties him to a pole in the middle of Times Square. Even at two in the morning, there are crowds, lines and lines of traffic, lights from every side giving no room to doubt what Mikey is. Everyone screams, at first, running from Rahzar, but once Rahzar turns and leaves Mikey tied to the pole, they calm, and investigate. Then -- one person, it doesn't matter who, reaches up and touches his exposed thigh, and Mikey twitches, and then others are coming in, tens of people at once, more hands than he can count on his body, hundreds of eyes trained on him, flashes from phones. And who could blame him if he extends? And the crowd is gasping, and cooing, and people are petting his cock, too, and by the time his brothers find him and save him it's too late: Every newspaper, every sordid website online has these helpless photographs of him. Everyone _knows_.

(Picture Mikey's hand dripping with come, sticky and hot and beading on his sheets. Picture him shivering, smiling against his pillow. Picture his layers peeled away, the shadows he must endure pierced by light, fracturing, until no one on Earth can deny that Mikey exists and that he is truly something to behold.)


End file.
